"I am as well as usual," she answered, with a slight, cold smile.
They sat down, and the ardent lover at once plunged into the subject nearest his heart.
"Bonnibel, I have come for my answer, you know," he said. "I hope and trust it may be a favorable one."
The girl's sweeping lashes lifted a moment from her pale cheeks, and her blue eyes regarded him sadly; but she did not speak. He bent down and lifted her white, listless hand in his and held it fondly.
"My dear, shall it be yes?" he inquired. "Will you give me this precious little treasure?"
Bonnibel looked down at the hand that lay in the colonel's—it was the one which wore the opal ring—that beautiful, changeful gem. Its colors were dim and pale to-day. She shivered slightly, as if with cold.
"Colonel Carlyle, I told you when we spoke of this before that I did not love you," she said, faintly.
The colonel did not appear to be disheartened by this plaintive plea.
"At least you do not hate me, Bonnibel," he said, half questioningly.
"Oh, no," she answered quickly; "I like you very much, Colonel Carlyle. You have been so very kind to me, you know—but it is only the liking one has for a friend—it is in no way akin to love."